In Which Germany Joins the Mile High Club
by darkheart510
Summary: Italy gets bored on an airplane and Germany joins the mile high club! GerIta. Shameless PWP smut. Yay.


This is actually a sidestory to the latest chapters of my _Live to Eat Another Day_ multi-part fic. However, since this story is just sex and more sex, you don't really need any background info. (But if you're interested, look it up in my index)

It's been a while since I wrote sex. I'm so rusty you'll prolly need a tetanus shot. If you review, I might be motivated to write more APH smut! hint hint

Disclaimer: I don't own APH, blah blah blah.

Warning: Story contains two men having sex. The actions which occur DO NOT reflect the relationship of the countries in any way whatsoever nor is it to be taken seriously. Story also has no historical basis. And I think I might have gone OOC for Germany. ORZ

* * *

Germany felt his ears pop as the airplane continued its ascent into the sky. It was four in the afternoon and they were just leaving the airport on a plane bound for the United States. They being Germany, Italy, Spain, and Lovino. Germany sighed and flipped through the in-flight magazine, checking to see what movies they would be playing. He didn't know what momentary lapse of brain function had induced him into gallivanting across the Atlantic with a bunch of loonies. Romano was convinced that America had gotten his hands on some sort of new weapon that could destroy the whole world. And then he said something about England's cooking. Germany couldn't figure out the connection between the two. It made no sense.

No, wait, strike that. What made no sense was why Germany was on this plane. He prided himself on being a logical being; efficiently and rationally was how he did his business. But no matter how he added up the numbers, he couldn't figure out how he'd been talked into going along with them. Thinking back, it must have been the way Italy was haphazardly packing the suitcase, throwing in clothing and shoes randomly, tucking art supplies and pasta wherever it pleased him. There was no order! How could one pack and not organize by type then by color?! Germany cursed the mother hen part of him that made him push Italy aside and take over the task of packing. It was probably also why he was on this plane, buckling in Italy's seatbelt and telling him to sit still, which Italy did. For five seconds.

Sitting in the row in front of them, Lovino chucked a magazine at Italy and yelled, "Settle down, you idiot!"

Italy pouted and Germany handed the magazine back to Spain, whom had turned around and asked for his magazine back with an apologetic smile. Looking down at the smaller man pressed against his side (because Italy had pushed up the armrest the moment they sat down), Germany patted him awkwardly on the head. Italy looked up and smiled happily, "Ve~! Isn't this great, Germany? We're going on a trip to America!"

Germany smiled back and was about to answer when the sound of someone clearing his throat loudly interrupted him. He looked up and saw two angry demonic eyes glaring at him. Sighing for what felt like the hundredth time since the whole fiasco had started, he asked, "Can I help you?"

A low growling answered his question, "Stay the fuck away from my brother, you potato-bastard."

"Brother! Don't be so mean! And stop turning around, you're going to get airsick like last time!" Italy clutched Germany's arm to his chest and scolded his older brother. Germany went ruddy at their closeness.

"What the f—Are you blushing?" Lovino's arm shot through the gap between the seats and tried to pull Italy off Germany. "That's it! We're switching seats. I'm not letting some pervert potato grope—"

"Excuse me, sirs, is there a problem?"

Italy's eyes lit up at the sound of the pretty stewardess' voice, but Spain spoke first, "No, ma'am. They're just being children. We're sorry for disturbing you." Spain grabbed Lovino's hand and pulled it away from Italy and Germany.

For a few seconds there was a small scuffle. From what Germany could see, it looked like Spain was winning. Finally, smiling his flirtiest smile but keeping an iron grip on Lovino's hand, Spain reassured the stewardess, "You won't hear another peep from us, we promise. Right, Lovi?"

Blushing a fire-engine red, Lovino tried to shake off Spain's hand, "Let go of me, you—fucking—okay fine. I promise not to pick on the pervert potato bastard until we get off. Happy?"

The stewardess looked at them strangely before thanking them and walking down the aisle. Germany slid down his seat and prayed that the rest of the flight would be less crazy. He put on the earphones which the stewardess had passed out earlier and pressed the buttons on the controls until he found the classical station. Settling the blanket around him and tucking the pillow behind his head, Germany looked over to see what Italy was doing. He was flirting with a different stewardess. Oh good. That meant Germany had several hours to nap before Italy lost interest. Hitting the recline button on the seat, Germany laid back and went to sleep to the sound of violins playing softly.

*************

Germany blinked blearily at the ceiling of the airplane cabin. Huh? Where was he? What was he doing on an airplane?

Oh, right.

Still feeling disoriented, Germany rubbed his face. He grimaced at the feel of stubble growing on his chin. The cabin lights were dimmed and it seemed that the people around him were sleeping. He must have missed dinner. He shifted in his seat; something strange was touching him…in a vulnerable spot. He reached under the blanket and grabbed a skinny wrist, which was attached to the arm of a wide awake Italian nation.

"Morning, Germany!" whispered Italy cheerfully.

Germany tugged at Italy's hand, "What are you doing? Stop it."

Italy's hand only grew more insistent, "I'm bored."

"Well, take a nap and we'll be landing at the airport in no time." Since Germany couldn't get Italy to let go, he decided to try to turn his body away from those industrious hands, but Italy only plastered himself to Germany's side and worked his hand around the blonde man's hips. Italy's other hand had crept up and was caressing Germany's back. Cold air hit his skin as his shirt was pulled out of his pants. Warm fingertips ghosted up his spine. Germany tried to convince himself that he was shivering from the cool air circulating though the cabin.

"But I already took a nap." Italy nipped at Germany's neck and sucked his earlobe between his teeth. "Let's play, Germany."

Germany groaned as Italy stroked his hardening cock—both out of pleasure and frustration. Mein gott! Why? Why was this happening?! No matter how much Prussia joked about it whenever they got on an airplane (or within 10 miles of an airport), he didn't want to join the mile high club. As a matter of fact, joining the mile high club was on his list of things NOT to do. The seats were tiny and uncomfortable. There was no space to move. And, oh yeah, PEOPLE WERE WATCHING. Germany tried to pry Italy off his dick, but all that painting and drawing must have given that man fingers of steel or something.

Italy nuzzled the soft skin behind his ears and nibbled gently. Scooting closer so he could move easier, Italy swirled his thumb over the crown of Germany's cock, causing him to buck and muffle his cry in the crook of his elbow. Italy's own erection nudged insistently against Germany's thigh. Whimpering softly, he whispered in Germany's ear, "Please, please, Germany."

Later Germany would blame what he did next on the fact that all the blood that used into to be in his brain had traveled down to his cock, but at that moment his mind was a complete blank as he reached down and palmed Italy through his pants.

Italy purred and pushed his cock against Germany's hand. The friction sent chills racing up and down his spine. Releasing his hold on Germany's vitals, Italy brought his lover close for a kiss; the sandpapery stubble scratched the palms of his hands. His tongue slipped inside Germany's mouth for a second, then darted back out to trace the fullness of his lower lip.

The tease! Germany growled and buried his hand in the brunette's hair. His tongue forced his way past Italy's lips, flicking up to tickle the roof of his mouth. He sucked at Italy's bottom lip until it was wet, shiny, and red. By now, Italy had climbing onto Germany's lap and was practically straddling it. Germany locked his arms around Italy's waist and pulled him flush against his body, moaning as he rubbed their clothed erections together. The heat building between them scorched him through his clothes.

A distant _ding _sounded.

Germany jerked back from fucking Italy's face with his tongue and remembered where he was: on an airplane with other passengers around. Struggling to stop breathing like he had just run a 10k marathon, Germany gripped Italy's hips and forced the smaller man to stop writhing.

Confused, Italy gazed down into Germany's eyes. Lust dripped from every pore on his body. "Germany?"

It took him several tries to speak, and even then his voice was hoarse and breathy. "We need to stop now."

"What for?"

Germany reached up and tried to straighten the curl of hair that never seemed to lay flat on Italy's head, "Because we're on an airplane and we'll get caught."

Italy gasped and his hips bucked violently. "S-Stop that, Germany…"

Oblivious to the cause of Italy's distress, Germany dropped his hand back down to Italy's hip with a shrug. He began trying to shift the smaller man back to own his seat, but Italy clung onto his neck and refused to budge. "Italy, get off please."

"Wait, wait, wait," Italy protested. "What if we're somewhere private?"

Germany grabbed Italy's hand and tried to detach it from his shirt, "Then I'm fine with it. Now if you'll get o—" Italy abruptly jumped up and pulled Germany from his seat. Determinedly, he led the taller man down the dark aisle. Occasionally there was a sleepy snort as Italy accidently walked into some unfortunate person's head or trod on a foot that was sticking into the walkway. A little girl who was reading quietly next to her sleeping mother looked up and caught Germany's eyes. Germany flashed a smile that hopefully looked natural. The girl raised an eyebrow at him and went back to her book.

"Italy, where are we…" Germany's question died off as he saw the vacant restroom sign hanging above their heads. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. Germany didn't want to have sex in the restroom either. As his country's personified nation, he had been on many airplanes bound for world summits and as a consequence, he had also been in many of their restrooms. He was not impressed. There was barely enough space for one person, how was Italy expecting to fit the both of them in there _and_ have sex? Not to mention one didn't know when the last time the stewardesses had cleaned the surfaces. There could be leftover germs and diseases, and bits of France on that countertop.

With a proud flourish, Italy flung open a door to reveal an empty restroom. "Here we are!"

Germany had thought he couldn't get anymore embarrassed, but apparently he was wrong. He noticed one of the stewardesses sitting in the corner smother her giggle behind a manicured hand. Looking amused, she made a _go on, go on_ gesture while elbowing her wide-eyed colleague in the side. His face a shade of red that rivaled Antonio's prize-winning tomatoes, Germany shoved Italy onto the toilet and squeezed himself into the tiny space in front of it before quickly slamming the door shut. The light came on as he bolted the lock.

The two of them blinked owlishly in the bright light. Italy's hair was tousled and frizzy from the dry cabin air, while Germany's blonde locks fell loose over his face, making him look years younger. Licking his lips, Italy straddled the toilet (or at least, he tried to, the goddamn room was smaller than a broom closet) and leaned forward eagerly. The predatory gleam in his eye made Germany gulp nervously. He plastered himself against the opposite wall and tried not to do anything like move or touch any flat surface. When Italy's hands caressed his thighs and trailed around to grip his ass, Germany choked and made a funny noise as he inhaled and exhaled at the same time. He started to cough violently and Italy looked up in concern. "Do you want to stop?" he queried.

Germany shook his head, and held one finger up until his coughs subsided. Taking a deep breath, he smiled at the Italian nation. "What am I going to do with you?"

Italy grinned and hugged Germany around the waist. Nuzzling his lover's stomach, Italy pulled the rest of Germany's shirt out of his trousers. He pressed his hands flat against Germany's back and scratched his nails lightly over the warm skin, delighting in the shiver it drew from the man who stood above him. Nosing Germany's shirt up, he laid soft kisses all over Germany's abdomen, repeatedly dipping his tongue into his belly button. Gazing up impishly, he replied, "I can give you some ideas if you want."

Germany buried his hand in Italy's hair and directed his lover's attention towards the bulge in his pants, "That was a rhetorical question."

Fumbling with the belt and the zipper, Italy whimpered as he pushed Germany's trousers to his knees and stared at the wet spot that darkened Germany's briefs. He touched his finger to the tip and swirled the wetness he found there.

Germany shifted impatiently on his feet, resisting the urge to rip off his underwear and shove himself into Italy's mouth. He looked back down in time to catch Italy's pink tongue darting out to lick the precum. His breath hitched as Italy sucked at the wet fabric. Growling, he said, "Italy…"

Ignoring Germany's warning, Italy slowly eased the briefs down. Germany shivered as the cold air hit his feverish skin; he was so hard the tip of his cock nearly touched his belly button. He arched his back and moaned loudly as he was suddenly engulfed in Italy's warm wet mouth. His hands scrabbled against the sink and the wall, searching for something to anchor him.

Italy swept his tongue across the crown of his cock and traced the pulsing veins that ran along the underside of the shaft. His body thrilled with each groan and gasp he pulled from his lover's lips. Reaching underneath, he fondled Germany's balls—something he knew would make Germany scream and he was not disappointed. However, he did wonder if they woke up the whole airplane.

Panting heavily, Germany yanked Italy's mouth off his cock and fought down the urge to cum all over his lover's face. Of course, when Italy's hands wrapped around his cock and started stroking furiously, all his hard-won control promptly flew out the window. He frantically grabbed Italy's hands and held them still. He wanted to cum, but not like this. "Stand up," he commanded.

Italy giggled at the note of desperation Germany couldn't hide. With some awkward maneuvering, Italy found himself bent over the toilet; his forearms braced against the wall for balance. The tiny room smelled like sex, saliva, and sweat. He whimpered and thrust his hips backwards as Germany squeezed his ass. Goosebumps marched up his arms as Germany leaned close and nipped the skin between his neck and shoulder.

There was a metallic clatter as Italy's belt was unbuckled and his pants were pushed down as far as they could go. Italy gasped as Germany slid his cock between his ass cheeks. "Germany, please!" He pleaded as he thrust his hips backwards.

Germany toyed with Italy's nipples through his thin shirt causing the smaller man to cry out. Getting revenge for the teasing earlier, he slowly caressed Italy's body, running his hands over his hips and along his inner thighs. He ran one finger under Italy's slick cock, enjoying the way his lover squirmed. Reaching up, he pushed two fingers into Italy's mouth, "Suck. Get my fingers wet."

Italy moaned as he tasted his own salty pre-cum on Germany's fingers. He sucked greedily; his tongue threaded the gap between and coated each digit with spit. A shiny trail of saliva dripped from his lips when Germany pulled his fingers out.

"Relax," said Germany as he pushed into Italy's ass, working his fingers past the tight ring of muscles. The heat that engulfed him made his cock twitch with anticipation. He stroked himself to stave off the worst of his lust.

Italy gasped and bucked his hips as Germany curled his finger just so and tapped his prostate. A low, frustrated moan rolled out of his throat and Italy thrust his hips backwards, trying to get Germany to do that again. Pre-cum dripped from his cock and decorated the toilet seat with translucent pearls as Germany thrust his fingers in and out, making his knees tremble and shake. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard a knock on the door and Germany barking something at the person outside, but all he could concentrate on was working his way towards his orgasm. He reached down and started jerking his cock roughly.

Chuckling, Germany covered Italy's hand and stilled his frantic movements, "Did I say you could do that?" He squeezed gently and started moving their hands in slow unison.

Italy whimpered and shook his head; whether he was answering Germany's question or just unable to cope with the sensations soaring through his body, he wasn't sure. Italy froze as Germany pulled his finger out and replaced it with something wider and hotter. A droplet of sweat trailed down the side of his neck, cooling the skin in its wake. His reflection in the fogged mirror caught his eye; his face was slack with his need to come, his lips pink and swollen. The shirt he wore clung to his torso, outlining his slender frame.

Gripping Italy's hips tightly, Germany buried his cock into his lover's ass, sliding to the hilt with one thrust. The heat of Italy's body nearly undid him right then and there; he forced himself to stay still so Italy could adjust to the intrusion. He dropped kissed along Italy's neck and all over his shoulders, helping to ease the tension from his body.

Uttering a moan of frustration, Italy began thrusting his hips back and forth, "G-Germany, hurry, I want…"

With a groan, Germany pulled back slowly and then slammed his cock back into Italy's frustratingly sexy body, making the smaller man cry out. Their bodies made wet slapping noises with each thrust; Germany no longer cared if everyone on the plane knew what they were doing, all that mattered was fucking Italy into the wall. Cursing at the tight space, he changed the angle of his thrusts and slid the length of his cock against Italy's prostate.

Italy gasped in surprise and arched his back, pleasure vibrating throughout his entire body. He met each of Germany's thrusts, grinding his ass against Germany's hips. Reaching back with one arm, he gripped Germany's thigh, spurring his lover on.

Panting heavily, Germany wrapped his hand around Italy's cock and started stroking him; precum dripped over his fingers and down to Italy's balls. His thrusts were growing more and more erratic; he knew he wasn't going to last much long, and from the desperate quality in his lover's voice, neither would Italy.

Suddenly he felt Italy's body tighten around him and scalding, hot cum spurted from between his fingers. Italy arched his back and moaned loudly as Germany pumped his cock, drawing out the orgasm. The feeling of Italy pulsating around his cock pushed Germany over the edge and he came, stifling his scream against Italy's back.

Gasping and panting, they rode the waves of their climax. Italy whimpered at the slightest movement as it triggered thousands of tiny orgasms to sweep throughout his body.

Willing his pulse to return to normal, Germany gathered Italy into his arms, cradling him against his wide chest and kissing him gently. Italy purred and leaned into his lover, temporarily sated. They stayed like that for a couple of minutes before Germany's thighs started to tremble from the awkward position.

Peeling Italy off, Germany grabbed a couple of tissues and started to clean off the various fluids drying on their bodies. Italy chortled at the pink tinting Germany's cheeks as he attempted to wipe up the cum dripping down the back of Italy's thighs. Italy ran a finger through the mess and brought it up to his lips whereupon Germany almost burst a blood vessel blushing. He made a grab for Italy's finger so he could clean it off, but Italy was enjoying himself too much to give in.

A loud banging at the door interrupted their struggle. "YOU FUCKING POTATO BASTARD, YOU BETTER NOT BE DOING WHAT I THINK YOU'RE DOING!" Germany banged his forehead against the overhead shelves as he recognized the voice outside of the door. He also heard a quiet murmuring that sounded like Spain. Lovino pounded on the door again, "What did you do to my brother, you pervert?!"

"Did you need to use the toilet, Brother? Hold on! Me 'n Germany need to get cleaned up!" Italy yelled back cheerfully.

There was silence for two seconds before Lovino started yelling profanities in Italian at a speed that Germany couldn't keep up with. Oblivious, Italy kept chattering through the door while wiping up the cum covering the toilet seat and the wall. Sighing loudly, Germany covered his face with his hands and wondered if his seat came with an eject option.

End


End file.
